The Poor Little Fishies

Jack checked himself out in the mirror, fresh from the shower, and decided today was the day. For what, he wasn’t sure yet, but it didn’t really matter. He smoothed his mustache and nodded at his reflection. Today was a no-shirt day, so he pulled some pants on and headed downstairs.

His wife Sarah was busy cooking breakfast in the kitchen, rattling pans and splashing water. Jack startled when he saw her, because it was far from pancakes in the frying pan on the stove.

“Fish? For breakfast?” he asked, squinting one eye and pulling up the side of his lip in a sneer.

“Aye, admiral!” Sarah answered. “Twas a tragic thing, and I feel guilty for it, but I bought this fish for dinner yesterday and then forgot all about them when you said you wanted pizza.” She shrugged and returned to her clatter.

Jack turned toward the coffee maker with a gloomy look on his face, but perked up quite a bit when he saw that she’d also gotten his favorite brand of coffee, in spite of her distaste for it. “Fish it is!”

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Pictures!

Of my nails.

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Three things that make me happy:

1. Yelling ‘fore!’ when we drive past the practice range
2. Olive Garden salad
3. Fake mustaches–maybe that’s one of Ian’s happy things

20120721-203019.jpgSo now you know…with a mustache I look like Freddie Mercury.